


setting fire to our insides

by duvide



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Complete, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), M/M, Pet Names, Romantic Fluff, Top Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), dreamnap brainrot, i added a chapter because aaaa, so there is now an epilogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29376879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duvide/pseuds/duvide
Summary: "I'm not good for you, Sapnap," he says, and he thinks he means it, too.Sapnap rips Dream’s mask off so hard it drags and catches on his skin."Who the fuck," Sapnap hisses, right in his face, looking at him with such vivacity Dream remembers for a moment what it feels like to be scared, "areyouto decide what's good for me?"(Or, the one where Dream accidentally lets go. Angst, sex, and feelings ensue.)
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 113
Kudos: 510





	1. chest pains and insecurities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi dreamnap nation ( _gently hands this to you_ ) here's what i've been working on for the past few weeks. 
> 
> _happy motherfucking birthday to sapnap!!_ i fucking love him and hope he has the best day ever with dream and patches :)
> 
>  **content warnings** : depictions of blood and injury, struggles with self hate, and explicit sexual content. 
> 
> _disclaimer_ : the moment dream or sapnap express discomfort towards romantic works being posted of them, this will be taken down!! 
> 
> all that aside, enjoy!! <3
> 
> edit: it's been a few hours and i'm honestly shocked by all the love i've recieved. 1.6 k hits? 160 kudos? the fucking comments? ( _the comments especially, my god._ ) i love you all + thank you so damn much!!

It all starts with the _drip-drop-drip_ of blood on stone.

(Actually it all starts way before that, maybe when he and Sapnap first meet, young and supple with remaining baby fat. Or later, much later, when the boy buries himself in Dream’s sweater, green contrasting with the pale golden hue of his skin, and Dream’s forced to realize how much he loves him — so much he hurts everyday, so much his bones ache and crack from holding his heart in, from trapping it beneath his ribs.)

The stone is going crimson and George, Ant, and Bad are screaming from the ledge above. Sapnap’s eyes are pitch black as he looks up at him, his long fingers clawing at his chest desperately. The blood pours through his grasping digits and Dream can’t see through his tears.

“It’s okay,” he says. He doesn’t believe it himself, “it’s okay.”

He brings his hands over his best friend's bursting skin, pressurizes the wound as he’s seen George do countless times before. The slightly shorter body is shivering, knuckles gone white, and the bleeding doesn’t stop.

“ _Dream_ ,” Sapnap says, and only that, eyes pools of black, wide, frightened. The tips of his bloodied fingers touch Dream’s mask, catch on the edge, and Dream rips it off, tossing it carelessly to the side. 

Dream shakes his head — his cheeks are wet and his hands have gone red. He feels the panic there, feels it pulse through himself and into the torn flesh his fingers are pressing against. The blood gushes and Sapnap’s breath comes out in pants. His spine trembles, his shoulders push against the stone and he seems to vibrate there, body spasming.

Then he goes still.

Dream goes still too.

____________________

They're never still.

There's always only ever laughter between them. Sapnap hands Dream the lilac flowers he knows are his favorite — despite how they make Dream’s nose tickle until he sneezes — and they giggle as Dream weaves them through Sapnap’s tumbling, soft black hair, twisting the waves into lopsided, lilac imbued space buns. They play pranks on their unsuspecting friends and make a mockery of the rules they're supposed to abide by.

They do it loudly and rambunctiously, smiling all the while.

____________________

He sits frozen in the hallway as George treats Sapnap. His hands are still caked with his best friend’s blood. He looks down at them and thinks of how useless they are. They could not even hold onto what is most precious to him.

(Maybe it’s more accurate to say it starts with a whole array of countless little things, _tiny things_ , like Sapnap smiling up at him during a hunt, and Sapnap handing him his axe after he's misplaced it (because he _always_ knows), and the molten embers in his eyes, golden in the light, dark and smoldering in the evening and Dream is futile to resist, kind of wades into it, drowns in it and —

 _and he's in love_.)

His fists stomp into the wall harder than intended, angry at his own failure.

Ant looks pale and scared, eyes unseeing. He’s the newest to these manhunts, after all. They don’t speak, and they both stare at the door, faces blank.

“Hey,” in the end it’s Bad that leads him to wash up, and he shouldn’t be all that surprised, “there you go.”

They fit into the bathroom together and Bad gently takes his hands underneath the faucet, scrubs at them with the last of the soap that comes out of the cheap pump.

He helps him out of his hoodie next, scarlet stained in the green, down the columns of his chest.

Dream can tell Bad’s furious with him, tension and stress stifling the claustrophobic bathroom. His movements are still gentle despite it, methodical. 

They don’t speak, not as Bad washes him gently, nothing there but the _drip-drop-drip_ of the soiled hoodie, water pouring from the faucet out against the stone sink.

___________________

The catalyst of it all, though, crests the night before the manhunt. Dream has to watch as Sapnap makes a painful face, grimaces as he sits himself down, body sore with all the thrashing he’d done in his nightmare and then when he realizes he's being watched, Sapnap’s eyes turn on him. Dream is so _weak_ , it disgusts him, because Sapnap doesn't even _ask_ , he just very plainly exists in this space and it magnetizes him, draws him in.

He fits behind Sapnap just fine, helps him settle his pillow comfortably, brings shaking fingers down his pinkened arms and offers a soothing touch. His friend sighs quite audibly, and it's contentment, safety, all those good things.

It's ridiculous — he wakes up with his hand pressed into Sapnap’s chest and for a moment he thinks he cannot breathe, _he can't let go_.

(He will never admit it scares him. Love is a lot of different emotions, it weaves its way into anger at any villager that dares give Bad or Ant an odd look, creeps into the cracks of worry he feels when he can't find George for more than an hour or two, breaks his facade of happiness as he gazes at his best friend and realizes he’ll never _really_ have him. It is many little things rolled into this one big thing, but mostly it is his own inability at holding on to what he considers most dear, and it is the fact that this always seems to cost him.)

And Dream is _known_ for his dangerous plays — especially during their manhunts. So he does something that seems quite reasonable in the moment itself, something funny and light and breezy, something to clear the mood and clear the air, something to laugh about later. 

It's a catastrophe, as far as catastrophes go, because _they_ don’t realize it’s a joke — not when Dream tosses himself over the edge of a ledge, making it appear as though he’s tripped, letting his face drop in terror as he falls back. 

He sees the varying degrees of horror cloud his friends’ expressions, the abrupt screaming, and then _Sapnap launches after him_ , throwing himself over the ledge after Dream, reaching for him, and it's agony, watching him fall, because Dream has a plan but Sapnap _doesn’t_ and Dream can’t get to him in time and —

It's absolutely not funny, and it's only because George knows, better than anyone, how absolutely _daft_ he is, that Sapnap doesn’t end up dead.

(The nasty, cruel part of Dream is bitter, and he thinks this could be something to be proud of — after all, George so longs to be a hero, yet finds himself coming up short in their group of misfits. It's a hurtful thought, but it distracts from all the other hurtful thoughts, even if just for a mere moment. He hates himself for it.)

____________________

Sapnap’s pale and still when they see him next, thick bandages crisscrossing his chest, his eyes closed as he sleeps.

“He probably won’t wake for a while,” George says. “The potions will keep him in a sort of comatose-like state as his body heals. Shouldn’t be more than a few days, though.” 

Bad goes in to press a kiss along the top of Sapnap’s brow and he grabs onto his hand so hard Dream wonders if he may be intending to break it. There’s a smile lurking in the corner of Bad’s mouth, barely there, and he whispers, “I’m so happy he’s okay,” and Ant nods, short and stuttering, and they all share the sentiment.

“He could have died,” George says, later, when it’s just the two of them and Sapnap, his breathing heavy and slow as he sleeps on.

Dream figures it’s a sentiment too macabre for Ant to process, a thought so glum it would break his ever-vibrant soul — a boy as pure and untormented as Ant could never understand. It's too dark to pile upon Bad’s already-so-dark thoughts, too, nothing but one more black spot in an inkwell of memories and past mistakes that don’t match up with the kind boy they know and love today. 

“You’re a fucking idiot sometimes,” George continues when Dream does nothing more than nod, and he thinks it’s a statement he should scrape into the sides of his skull, imprinting the words permanently. 

“Yeah,” Dream agrees. “I’m sorry,” he says, and George sighs. 

George takes his hands and brings them down over Sapnap’s bandages. It feels oddly intimate, where Dream had been pressing to stall the bleeding earlier there is only white cloth, and he imagines his hands stained again and it’s a thought that clouds his mind, nestles into the forefront of his brain so that he can’t think, can’t _breathe_ and —

“It worked,” George sounds weakened and hoarse, but there’s heavy relief in his voice. “He’ll be okay.” 

He didn’t realize, but as George guides his hands over the bandages, there is the oddness of smooth skin with faint ridges, vast plains of marred and unmarred pale golden skin.

Sapnap smiles in his sleep, and George laughs softly at the slightly dopey grin. Dream exhales a little easier. 

____________________

They spend their days sitting besides Sapnap’s bedside as he rests, waiting for him to wake. Some mornings he tosses and turns, pushing at his chest as though his flesh is burning, and when Dream runs his hands over the bandages to soothe him, he can feel his breath spasm, confused and upset with nowhere to go.

It’s still a special feeling, having this ability to calm Sapnap that nobody else seems to have, for the relief to merge and wash over his skin. He imagines his hands are always just _stained_ , tainted with his friend’s blood. What he doesn’t know is that even in his potion-induced slumber, Sapnap wishes he could keep his hands on his chest for always, the touch of his friend the only thing that makes the pain bearable.

Dream feels inadequate, but Sapnap always smiles and sighs, relieved, in his sleep.

The first day the bandages come off, Sapnap has still yet to wake. George tugs Dream into the room, to have him there just in case he needs to soothe Sapnap as he removes the bandages. 

It goes smoothly, George unwrapping them with a practiced, methodical ease. 

There are scars there though, and Dream tries not to watch them but he does. He’s angry because it’s not fair that his best friend had to go through that when Dream had just been carelessly, _stupidly_ playing around, and he wants to make them go away but he can’t. They are volatile pink, ragged and bruised from the impact of the fall, a constant reminder of a red chest, red hands and faltering breath.

They’re not ugly, not at all. If anything, they’re just another thing that make Sapnap who he is — brave, loyal, willing to risk it all for those he loves. Dream turns away — he only sees what he almost let slip.

____________________

Five days roll by, hot and humid and Dream still scrubs his hands diligently every morning but he sleeps better, kind of. Sapnap still hasn’t woken, but Dream sees him get healthier, the scars flatten out and shrink, his skin slowly return to it’s healthy pale golden tone, and he tries to catalogue these little improvements away but somehow at night, all he can remember is Sapnap’s tender frame shaking, blood gushing, his fingers warm and sticky and the air thick with the smell of copper and —

He wakes up in a sweat.

He doesn't remember falling asleep in the first place, but Sapnap is beside him, lying on the medical cot, still in the potion-induced, comatose-like sleep, and Dream yawns into his fist as he stumbles closer to him. He doesn't make a sound, just smiles this tight little smile with his eyes still mostly closed, and crawls onto the sliver of space next to Sapnap, tucking himself close, conscious of every injury and careful not to jostle him.

It's obscene how comfortable this is.

Because they spend many nights together like this, too, after Manhunts, after nightmares, their bodies warm besides each other, Sapnap’s fingers tracing the folds of his shirt, pushing into where Dream’s shoulders ache. The rhythm of it is as therapeutic for Dream as it is for his friend — on nights when Sapnap’s aching and emotionally exhausted from his own nightmares, he lays, battered and broken, face hidden in Dream’s shoulder as his fingers seek out the softness of Dream's flesh.

The familiar scent and warmth of Sapnap calms him more than he cares to admit — the pounding in his ears simmers down and he inhales deeply, to the scent of Applewood and vague antiseptic, something earthy and tangy and when he exhales again all the tenseness seeps from his body.

He can't think of anything besides the lull of Sapnap’s breath against his side, of how the scent of his friend will stain the pillow — tomorrow he will wake with the scent in his nose still, and it will be an eventless day, nothing as soothing as the camaraderie of Sapnap by his side, consciously or not.

He tries not feeling guilty as his hands find Sapnap’s sides and he tucks himself tighter into the body besides him. He tries not to, but it feels so good.

In the morning he wakes up to quiet, the blinds of the medical room in their joint home thrown wide open to let in some sun. He buries his face in his pillow, can still feel the heat of Sapnap’s body resting beside him as he brings a hand down on the soft sheets.

He doesn't even notice George until he's dozed off and awoken again, George seated on the plush chair in the corner. He's wearing one of Sapnap’s larger shirts paired with black cotton sweatpants, his books and papers spread across the floor as he finishes up on whatever medical term or procedure he’s studying — Sapnap usually prefers to ban all study in his presence, but Dream supposes he doesn’t really have a say in the matter at the moment. 

Dream wants to roll his eyes at the mere thought — however, it is sweet, and he cannot deny that he loves seeing George so content and determined.

Admittedly, he likes him a whole lot less when George eyes him from across the room, before humming, "well? Why don't you tell Sapnap you love him?"

He knows that in the face of his best friend there is no use denying it — as if George does not know _all of him_.

He closes his eyes, lets the scent of Applewood fill his senses as his fingers twitch, and he thinks of how he almost lost Sapnap — not lost, _let go_ — and then —

"I failed him once. I would only fail him again," he says it matter-of-factly, no room for argument, lips tight.

There's a somber look on George’s face, but he tries not to think of what it means.

____________________

Sapnap wakes eight days after the incident and Dream’s not there, too scared to see him, too scared to _finally_ know if Sapnap hates him now or not. 

Sapnap is rightfully livid, spends a few days in bed with a bruised rib and steadily scarring wounds, nearly healed, across his chest, and then just broods for a while.

It's not the best idea to hide up in his room, but Dream is apparently all out of good ideas, and it's quiet in the house with everyone out running errands. He skips breakfast and then decides to skip lunch too, because his head is kind of all over the place now.

He sits on the windowsill and watches out over the lake outside their home. The air smells of Applewood, the scent comforting in the rainy afternoon. The soft _drip drop_ sound of the rain on the roof panes is enough of a distraction, quieting Dream’s racing mind. He doesn't look at his fingers, but as he inhales the scent of rain on pine trees and thinks of fresh apples, he imagines, for the first time in days, that maybe his digits are not the only ones stained.

The moment passes with the loud bang of his door slamming into the wall. Dream doesn't have to turn — the scent of Applewood mixes with dark, with the copper of blood from Sapnap’s previously torn skin, hiding under his fingernails — but he does anyway because if there is one thing he has learned, it is that it is best to never turn your back on a livid Sapnap.

Sapnap looks _okay_ , all things considering. His face is a little flushed, and his fists are balled at his sides in anger. He has light bags under his eyes, despite his abundance of sleep, and he seems to favor his left side, but Dream strongly doubts that his friend would very much appreciate his worry in a moment like this.

" _What the fuck_ ," Sapnap very eloquently seethes — and then, "I fucking _love you_ why the _fuck_ would you _do that_?!"

All things considered, this is not anywhere near what Dream expected. Emotions are difficult, sure, and there are many ways to love — many more than this deep, mind-shattering, earthquaking way that Dream feels for the boy — but none of them seem very plausible in the current situation. Sapnap’s eyes are set on _murder_ , not _let's platonically hug this out_.

It doesn't very much matter, either way, Dream thinks the conclusion is still the same.

"I'm not good for you, Sapnap," he says, and he thinks he means it, too.

(Because he is loud, and he steals food, and he’s arrogant, and he holds Sapnap’s hands too tight. He laughs, obnoxious, lies, often, cries, with ugly sobs racking his frame. _He lets go_ , even when he tries to hold on.)

They don't say anything else for a moment. Dream watches as his best friend's cheeks darken, the pink staining all the way to the tips of his ears. He's not sure if he's blushing or if it's anger because he so rarely gets to see him angry.

Sapnap takes the couple of strides it takes to bridge the distance between them. Dream’s relatively sure he's about to be sucker-punched and he's also relatively sure he deserves it, so he doesn't run, just comes down off the windowsill so he can meet Sapnap head-on.

They're so close he can feel the warmth emitted from Sapnap’s strong frame. He is all angry muscles, tense with his rage, and his knuckles have gone white from gripping so tight.

Sapnap rips Dream’s mask off so hard it drags and catches on his skin.

" _Who the fuck_ ," Sapnap hisses, right in his face, looking at him with such vivacity Dream remembers for a moment what it feels like to be scared, "are _you_ to decide what's good for me?"

There’s a breath, a small moment of clarity. Sapnap’s eyes have gone all the way black, warm embers gone even in the midday sun. Before he can allow himself to sink into them, Sapnap has already grasped his chin, pulling him into a kiss.

And when his mouth crashes to Dream’s, it’s just as burning, just as _addicting_ , as the tension that spikes through their veins, that lays heavy on their tongues.

It's perhaps not the most romantic of first kisses, as far as first kisses go. Sapnap is still pretty pissed off, made very obvious by his sharp teeth biting down into Dream’s bottom lip, and his grip on his chin errs just this side of painful. But it's hypnotic, just the right kind of desperate, and Dream kisses back with just as much fervor, biting at his friend's plump mouth.

Everything is a bit blurry, because Dream’s brain is pretty bad at processing emotions in general, and this is somehow the epitome of all of that. His heart stutters, flutters, sings in his rib cage when Sapnap’s fingers push their way under his hoodie. The tips are warm, skitting over his sides and he thinks he might be flying, heady with the taste of Sapnap on his lips and his mouth, hot where it presses kisses into his neck.

“Once we do this — if we were to decide to —” Sapnap murmurs against Dream’s flushed cheek, “there’s no backing out for me, Dream, not ever.”

“Are you implying that _I’d_ want to?” Dream asks, breathless and sharp. “Are you saying you’re the only one who knows how to commit?”

“I’m saying, _I don’t know_ _where you stand_ ,” Sapnap hisses, whipping him closer by the hips and lifting one of Dream’s long thighs up to curl around his waist. “I’m saying once I decide you’re _mine_ , there’s no way I’m letting you go, so if you end up wanting to leave, we’ll have a problem.”

Dream pants softly at him for a moment, eyes boring into Sapnap’s, before slowly grinding their cocks together almost unconsciously, bringing his arms around Sapnap’s neck, lips brushing Sapnap’s ear as he whispers, “I’ll be counting on you not to let me go, Sap —” 

Sapnap kisses him to shut him up. 

They’re fused so tightly together, wound so close, Sapnap’s mouth pressed so hard against his — for a brilliant moment, Dream fills with a dazzling burst of happiness because surely Sapnap and he will never be apart now, not ever.

Sapnap’s still so angry, though, and so are his kisses. He’s got him by the hair, both hands fisted in Dream’s curls, and he’s kissing Dream with the same fervent desperation that Dream’s insides are bubbling with. He shoves and slides his tongue against Dream’s, nipping and biting ruthlessly at Dream’s mouth.

They maneuver to the bed, which is the only sensible thing to do. Dream doesn't register it as sensible, he just follows the guidance he gets given, Sapnap’s hands persistent as they push him down onto his own duvet. He struggles to get up on the bed and watches as Sapnap kicks his shoes off, sitting on the very cusp of the bed, before gripping Dream’s hip, fingers digging into bone and flesh.

His eyes are feral. Dream would be scared, but this is Sapnap, he has seen him battered and broken, flesh torn and turned, and there is nothing in the endless darkness of the boy’s soul that scares him anymore.

He fumbles to open the drawer of his nightstand while Sapnap continues to just stare at him. They don't speak, but he tosses the bottle of lube to him and then very decisively crawls into his lap, straddling his thighs.

It takes a moment for Sapnap to react, but there's no time to doubt himself. He can smell Applewood on his own skin and the air is electric. It crackles with the heady tension, with the want that is pooling near his belly button and he thinks he might explode, his heart _finally_ escaping his rib cage.

Then Sapnap’s touch returns, pressing into his spine, crawling under his hoodie. The other hand reaches _down_ and he feels the nip of Sapnap’s canines at the joint of his shoulder and neck.

His fingers are warm, demanding against his thigh and then persistent along the dip of his spine. 

Sapnap’s hands smooth along Dream’s narrow hips, his fingertips hovering a sweet comforting touch there, setting his skin on fire. Dream thinks he wants to cry, because this is it and it's relief but also torture, and he feels so warm he thinks he might melt.

He hides his face in Sapnap’s neck, flustered, but it's only worse because his Applewood scent mixes with the mineral shampoo he uses and it’s just so _good_. There's no way to escape the boy now, solid all around him and teeth set to his neck and he doesn't think he _wants_ to.

Sapnap’s tongue teases Dream’s collarbone and Dream moans gratefully, then gasps as Sapnap pulls him closer. They both groan loudly as the movement brings their hips into line; Dream shudders, fingers digging into Sapnap’s shoulder blades as he feels Sapnap’s cock hard against his own.

Sapnap runs his lips around Dream’s ear, rolling his hips up against Dream.

“You’ve no idea how much I want you. How _long_ I've wanted you.” Sapnap’s voice sounds rough, his hips moving steadily as Dream claws at his back, pulls at the material of his sweatpants. Dream parts him lips to reply, but finds he can't even _speak_. Not when he can feel Sapnap's cock, long and hard and thick against his own, pressing against him and _fuck_ , he’s never felt so turned on, so desperate.

Sapnap tugs at Dream’s waistband and he lifts his hips obligingly, letting Sapnap pull his sweatpants and underwear down to his delicately muscled thighs. And then abruptly, Sapnap is pushing him off his lap and Dream stumbles to his feet. He knows he must look a sight — pants pushed to his thighs, cock flushed, hoodie rumpled, lips slick and bruised. 

“Strip,” Sapnap orders, staring at Dream with hooded, heated eyes as he rests his dominant hand lazily against his crotch, palming himself through his sweatpants. 

Dream blinks, once, _twice_ , and then fumbles to obey. Sapnap leans back on an arm, tilting his head as Dream struggles to gain composure and pulls his sweatpants and underwear off the rest of the way. He stumbles as he tugs at his hoodie and Sapnap stifles a chuckle with his fist. Dream glares, indignation directed towards Sapnap as he finally pulls the hoodie off and crosses his arms petulantly over his bare chest. 

Sapnap laughs again and pats his lap condescendingly, eyes _hot_ as they trace the curves of Dream’s naked body. His head tips back slightly, and that smirk is still there. Dream scowls, angry and embarrassed and indignant and _so fucking horny_ — but before he can do another damn thing, Sapnap leans forward and _pulls_ him back into his lap and Dream has to adjust quickly so that he’s kneeling, straddling Sapnap, his naked skin pressed firmly against the cotton of his sweatpants. 

Dream bites at his lip, whining around it, as Sapnap lips find his ear. He nips at his earlobe, before sucking it into his mouth, and Dream squeezes his eyes shut, pushing his naked groin right up against Sapnap’s. The thick cotton sweatpants he wears leaves too many barriers between Dream and his skin, but at this point he doesn’t care. The air is chilled, and the swell of his cock is obvious now without the obstruction of his clothing. He hears Sapnap chuckling, before his mouth is on Dream’s neck, those lips running over his pulse.

Dream releases his lip from his teeth, hips bucking forward roughly. Sapnap growls, and Dream feels it down his damn spine. He gasps, grinding into Sapnap shamelessly, beginning to pant softly, swearing he’s never been worked up so damn hard and fast in his life. Swearing he’s never needed something so badly.

“You really need this, _don’t you?_ ” Sapnap asks, and the hand on Dream’s shoulder moves, reaches down and clasps around his hip. He jerks Dream in, and Dream groans, tipping his head back and letting it hang there, mind numb with pleasure as he gets the friction he so badly needs from Sapnap. “Come on baby, let’s see you nice and worked up.”

Sapnap’s thumb is up, rubbing along his lower lip. He lets out a strangled little noise, and that smile is back, lips curving to the side in that smirk that makes Dream melt, down to his bones, his marrow. “God, Dream, you really are _so_ _pretty_.” Another pass of Sapnap’s thumb, and Dream’s lips part of their own accord. Sapnap presses gently, and Dream can’t stop himself, opens his lips more, lets Sapnap’s thumb push in. The moment it does he is struck with the taste of salt, the feeling of Sapnap’s rough thumb against his tongue — and the hand around his wrist tightening, tightening so damn hard it grinds into bone. And yet, he doesn't mind. “Dream,” Sapnap breathes, heavy with something from his gut that has Dream whining, without meaning to.

Dream tugs at Sapnap’s flimsy shirt, manages a pathetic “kiss me” around his finger, and can find a deity to thank later when Sapnap does. His mouth is back on Dream’s, his tongue pushing past his lips like Dream so badly wants.

Dream gasps, hand tightening at the edge of Sapnap’s shirt. Sapnap’s lips are chapped but just slightly so, enough to catch against Dream’s lips in ways that have his hips nearly canting forward. He is warm, burning, and he kisses exactly how Dream wishes people did — hard, pushing deep like he wants Dream’s jaw to ache in the morning.

Dream hopes it does.

Sapnap’s tongue is incessant and Dream whines as it presses over his. He sucks at it, tries to get it between his teeth, but somehow he can’t, and Sapnap is pushing at the plush of his cheeks, before pinning his tongue down again.

Dream feels the fingers on his hip squeeze, slide along the plains of his skin, hot, _heady_. He opens his mouth wider, but Sapnap isn’t even letting him breathe. Dream’s breath rushes out through his nose, and he feels his whole body trembling. When Sapnap does pull back, he sucks in a breath, as Sapnap puffs against his wet mouth.

Sapnap pauses, eyes closed, and in a stroke of confidence, Dream’s lips meet Sapnap’s throat, leaving his own set of marks on the sun-bronzed skin, smiling against the jutting collarbones as Sapnap lets out gritted grunts of pleasure into his mussed blonde hair, jerking as Dream cups his cock, palm pressing down and —

“ _Stop_ ,” Sapnap growls, ripping away Dream’s hand and hefting him up with one arm curved beneath his ass, using his other hand to knead the smooth plush of his thigh, fingers skimming up towards his rim. Dream jerks wildly, yanking at Sapnap’s hair and pushing his face further into his throat while simultaneously lifting his ass higher, muffled whimpers of pleasure sounding every now and then.

Vaguely, Dream registers the _pop_ of the lube’s cap as Sapnap slicks his fingers, and he moans breathily, high-pitched and punched out through an exhale of air.

Sapnap laughs. “You okay, sweetheart?” He asks innocently, the tip of his slicked middle finger tracing Dream’s rim. And before Dream can answer, he pushes the finger into him matter-of-factly, twisting it around until he feels the throbbing little nub of his prostate. “Dream?” Sapnap asks sweetly as Dream lets out a high pitched keen, his spine bowing inwards.

Sapnap doesn’t move his finger, doesn’t do _anything_ , just let’s it rest pressed up against his prostate and Dream thinks he might go out of his fucking mind if Sapnap doesn’t move.

Dream opens his mouth to say as much, but stops short when Sapnap pulls his finger all the way out, running it over Dream’s hole, then adds his index finger. He circles the skin gently, and Dream’s eyes close as he pushes forwards, forwards, until both fingertips are inside. 

“Good?” he whispers. Dream nods, his forehead creasing and his mouth dropping open as Sapnap pushes inside to the first knuckle, then the second. He pulls out, and then eases in again, slowly.

“Yeah. Good,” Dream breathes, resting his forehead against Sapnap’s own. He gasps as Sapnap ups the pace again, pushing a little deeper and curling his fingers, a simple, steady pleasure. Then Sapnap is smiling cruelly, and Dream has a mere moment to think ' _oh fuck'_ before he’s pulling all the way out and slamming a third finger in as well, going straight for his prostate _again_. 

Dream can’t _breathe_ and his fingertips trail the plains of his chest, tweaking his own nipple, reaching down and —

Sapnap digs the fingers of his free hand into Dream’s thigh to keep Dream from touching himself. He’s as hard as he’s ever been. He looks down, at the way Sapnap’s fingers move in and out of him, at Sapnap’s fully hard cock tenting the front of his sweatpants. Sapnap groans, shifting his hips as Dream pushes down hard. _Fuck_. Sapnap moves his fingers faster, his free hand now on Dream’s ass, kneading the skin, letting his fingers slip deeper. Dream keens. Sapnap does it again, his breathing harsh and loud. 

“ _Please_ ,” Dream breathes, desperate and embarrassed and so fucking turned on. 

“What was that? You’re gonna have to speak up, baby,” Sapnap retorts around a smug smile. 

Oh, _fuck him_. 

“Fuck you,” Dream grits out, closing his eyes. Sapnap frowns and flashes his eyes down to Dream’s mouth, before he just smiles, pulling his fingers out completely and leaning back idly on a toned arm. Dream’s eyes fly open, he stares as Sapnap calmly flicks a strand of hair, playing with the wave, as if he was just going to fucking leave Dream panting on his lap like an idiot. Like he hadn’t just fingered him nearly to _death_. 

“ _Fuck. You,”_ Dream repeats, and then — “ _Please_ ,” he whines, high and drawn out. It’s pathetic really, but the look in Sapnap’s eyes is nothing short of _starving_. 

“Please what, sweetheart?” 

Dream really, _really_ wants to strangle him, and starts to say as much. “I swear to the fucking _Gods_ —” 

Sapnap grasps his chin so hard that his lips are pushed together and Dream swears he can already feel the bruises forming. “I _said_ ,” Sapnap growls, “ _Please. What._ ” 

“F — _fuck,_ okay. Please. Please fuck me! Do something! Anything! _Please!_ ” 

Sapnap smiles, smug. He pulls his hand away and Dream whimpers, then moans as Sapnap kisses him, lifting him as he pulls his cock out of his sweatpants. 

With a harsh tug on Dream’s hips, Sapnap guides his cock into place, letting the head rest teasingly against his hole. “Ready, baby?” Sapnap’s voice is trembling, his last semblance of control keeping him from fucking up into Dream. Dream just barely nods before his hips are _pulled_ down. 

They moan into each other’s mouths as Dream sinks, not very carefully, onto Sapnap’s cock. The burn of accommodation makes Dream whimper softly. “Wait!” Dream gasps as Sapnap lifts him back up so only the head is inside; but before Sapnap can scrabble to obey, to hold him firmly in place, Dream is already sliding down once more, gravity and his own weight dragging him into place around Sapnap’s cock, which then slides directly over Dream’s prostate in a flash of near blinding pleasure. Dream thrashes. “ _Oh fuck_! Okay, _don’t wait_ , do that again!”

Sapnap laughs breathlessly into his neck, grabbing Dream’s waist and using a bruising grip to hoist Dream in a steady rise and fall, grinding his cock up into him with deep, willful thrusts.

Dream bucks, and Sapnap growls, digging his hips forward into Dream. Dream gasps, and then reaches up, pushing his knuckle into his mouth and biting down to stifle any sounds. 

Sapnap makes this sound, animalistic and deep in the back of his throat, and then he's pulling at the blonde curls, yanking his head back.

"I want to hear you," it's a growl pressed into the side of his throat, and Dream feels his mouth hover there, feels the hot breath pressing into his pulse.

He's not one to feel embarrassment, but he sounds so desperate to his own ears that it's a little unbecoming, so he holds his knuckle firmly between his teeth, muffling his desperate moans and whines and pants. 

“Okay, baby. If you’re gonna be a little _brat_ —” Sapnap thrusts so hard Dream’s entire body jolts, “— then i’ll fuck you like one.” 

Dream _has_ to release his knuckle, hands scrambling to find purchase on Sapnap’s shoulders as he snaps up into him, and Sapnap takes his opportunity, he lifts Dream up nearly off his cock and then _slams_ him down. 

All the noises Dream had stuffed down burst out, and he fucking _screams_. 

“Gods, you sound. So. Fucking. _Pretty_.” Sapnap punctuates each grunted word with a harsh thrust, and Dream can’t help it, he screams _again,_ mouth parting with moan after moan. Sapnap laughs darkly, smiles that arrogant, heated smirk of his. 

He’s precise, persistent in his ownership, drives in and out in a way that has the blonde chanting his name.

He doesn't bite down, his teeth constantly hovering over where Dream wants them most — etched into his skin, piercing deep, owning him.

And he's pretty sure he begs for it too, wanton and hoarse, " _please please please_ ," but it's to no avail because even like this, Sapnap is nothing if not immaculately in-control.

Dream leans back, instinctively tightening his thighs around Sapnap’s hips in a grip that’s probably far from comfortable for him. But Sapnap simply pins him with that steady, scorching gaze and fucks up into him with enough force to leave Dream gasping for air. 

“What? You going to come for me, _slut_?” Sapnap bites out, thumbs scraping against Dream’s hipbones as he dips down to run the flat of his tongue over the length of Dream’s collarbone. Dream moans at the name, gasping Sapnap’s name breathily. His cock is pressed ruthlessly against Dream’s prostate and it’s simultaneously _too much_ and _not enough_.

Sapnap’s mouth doesn’t relent, sucking on the hard nub of his nipple until it is reddened and shiny with spit before flicking his tongue over it in swift, teasing strokes that has Dream keening and yanking on his hair again. Over and over those teeth scrape at his nipple, leaving it delightfully sore and perversely throbbing for more of the same treatment. And Sapnap obliges, sucking on it until Dream’s spine bends inwards and he feels the threads of his control unraveling.

“ _Wait_ , I’m — I’m gonna — _please_!” 

Sapnap smiles, leaning in to finally — fucking _finally_ — bite down, his teeth digging into flesh in a deliciously painful way. 

And _that’s_ what does it. 

Dream’s orgasm hits with a force so jarring, he’s sure he blacks out for a moment. Completely overwhelmed and simply shocked into silence, Dream comes with sharp, upward bucks, Sapnap now thrusting impossibly harder, head thrown back and jaw clenched.

It’s only a few more harsh thrusts and Sapnap’s groaning in Dream’s ear, loud and punched out in the shape of Dream’s name. He feels Sapnap release inside him, fucking into his ass while his pace slows. The hand he still has on Dream’s hips lets up entirely, holding Dream tightly to his body in nothing but sweat and heat. 

Sapnap’s shirt is torn a little where Dream’s teeth had dug in and his sweatpants are stained with Dream’s cum, and Dream’s sex-addled mind finds it’s kinda hilarious that Sapnap just fucked him fully clothed. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Sapnap says, and that’s all it takes for Dream to start giggling. Sapnap’s responding smile is brilliant, so, _so_ fond and then he’s laughing too. 

Afterwards Sapnap takes his time undressing himself properly, throwing his shirt and sweatpants to the foot of the bed before entering the adjacent bathroom to grab a washcloth. His hair is matted to his forehead and his cheeks are ablaze, mouth bitten and red from Dream’s heady kisses.

It's a sight Dream wants to bury deep inside of himself, something to hold onto in the deepest dark of the night. The shine of sweat on his tan body, and strong thighs, and the musky scent of his orgasm. He gets cleaned and tucked in underneath the blankets and then Sapnap joins him there too, comfortably fitting in behind him, warm hands finding their way to his chest.

He tries to calm his breath, but Sapnap has his hands caressing over the inked panda and goggles on his hip, his lips pressing gentle kisses to where his teeth had marked his neck.

They nap and fuck again and then nap again and there’s nothing Dream can do except work hard to match up to the fire that seems to burn endlessly in Sapnap’s core. Sapnap is still angry, still feels betrayed, and they fuck until nothing of that is left, until it’s just _this_ , until it’s diluted down to the most basic of their emotions, until there is no doubt, not even a fraction, that Dream owns as much of Sapnap as he does of him, that they own nothing but each other and the blood under their nails and that Dream will never be able to let go — _even if he’d want to_.

He doesn’t want to, but that’s besides the point. 

____________________

They sit in the protective comfort of Dream’s four-poster with chocolates from a village Dream’d gone to the week prior and Sapnap is subdued now, mellow with how good he feels, a lazy smile on his face as he watches Dream fumble with a package of candies, his lips plump and pink.

It’s intimate with how nude they are, and Dream’s nails have left red welts on Sapnap’s tan shoulderblades, and he’s pretty sure he has a hickey pressed above every freckle spanning over his chest and collar bones. It’s good though, and Dream’s mind is not going one thousand miles an hour, he’s not _overwhelmed_ , instead just at ease, soft blankets under his legs, Sapnap’s hand on his knee.

They don’t really talk, just eat their sweets and Dream has this inkling of a thought that Sapnap is letting his fingers do the talking, gentle patterns rubbing into his thigh and now up his arm.

The digits linger over the teeth marks left in Dream’s neck, not deep enough to pierce skin, but still visible to the naked eye. Sapnap’s look turns pensive as he runs the tip of his index finger over the dented skin. His eyes are no longer pitch black, when they meet Dream’s, they spark with golden flecks.

“Are you sure of us?”

His voice is still gruff, exhaustion coloring it. His cheeks are pink, the bags under his eyes a little sallow. But he looks content in this light, yellow from the lamp on the bedside table. Dream has to think, not for the answer, but to make sure he understands the context.

He is comforted because this is his rightful place: besides this boy that he owes so much to, who owns so much of him. And Dream thinks it’s fitting, that it’s Sapnap who owns him, and that he owns nothing but Sapnap’s scent lingering in his nose and his own body stained with his marks.

“I am,” he says, no hesitation. He is firm as he says it too, because he’s not usually very sure of many things, but he knows what he wants from Sapnap.

He wants to hold on forever.

Sapnap regards him quietly for a few more moments. His eyes trail to his face, seemingly scanning it for any uncertainty. Then, a tender smile takes over his own, and they meet in a much gentler kiss, sweet with the sugar they’ve been eating.

Next, he presses his nose below Dream’s ear, tickling him. Sapnap put his hair up in a loose bun, but Dream nuzzles it into a couple of desolate locks, inhaling his scent deeply. Sapnap’s fingers are drifting down to his sides now, gently holding his ribs where they burst to let his fleeing heart escape earlier.

He tongues into the indents of his teeth first, breathes a breath there that causes Dream’s whole soul to quiver. And then, _then_ he says, “I love you.” 

For a moment, Dream thinks of what Sapnap had looked like, pale face on the dark stone, hands staining red, gasping, lips pink, eyes wild. He thinks of how helpless he had felt, panic clashing with his best friends, fighting in his chest. He thinks of how all the hairs on the back of his neck had stood to attention as he tried to patch back the broken skin, how his flesh had felt. He thinks of how it still feels sometimes, still confused, his hands itchy and his mind restless.

Words fall short, it’s like a sea crashing into him, the feeling punching a hole through his gut and leaving him restless. He can barely register the gentle swipes of Sapnap’s tongue, the skin tender to the touch but the adoration brushing over it, tingling and crackling.

Even after Sapnap has pulled back, his love lingers, running around his nerves in the way they did as young boys, in the way they still do, playful, vibrant, _alive_. 

____________________

Some nights he still can’t breathe, and it’s on one of those nights that he leaves the comfort of his ( _and now Sapnap’s_ ) bed, desperate to _get out_ , and he hears Sapnap calling for him but he kind of just lets it go. Sapnap knows him well enough not to follow. It's easy like this, because everything is literally just a state of letting go or holding on, with his axe against whatever hostile mob dares obstruct him, and he travels through the bushes and then down a path and he doesn't need to know where he's going because at least he knows he'll always be able to come back.

In the end he finds his tattoo artist in his favorite dark oak village, where he got the tiny panda and goggles inked on his hip, and he knows it's supposed to be a scary place, but there's no judgement here, and at any rate, he's not the only boy with blood on his hands and —

His brain shuts up when the needle first pierces his skin and then he just lets it go. It lingers at the back of his skull, pressed against the base, and he knows it will fester there until it breaks and seeps back into the foreground, but for now it's just a small desolate thought and it doesn't rule him.

Sapnap is still awake when he comes back, because that's just something the boy does. He waits up and maybe he is like those tattoo artists in that way too, because he's also pretty sure Sapnap doesn't judge the blood that stains his hands.

Which is stupid, because Sapnap is nothing short of _perfect_ , and he is probably the only person with any right to judge, at any rate.

He doesn't ask, either, just makes grabby hands extended towards Dream and then nestles up next to him on the comforter.

It's a comfort because this is his rightful place: besides this boy who he seems to owe so much to, who seems to own so much of him. And Dream thinks once more that it's fitting, that it's this boy who owns him, and that he owns nothing but the dirt under his nails and the hoodie still stained with his boyfriend’s blood.

____________________

They go to a hidden beach Dream and George discovered _years_ ago on a trek to a bordering village on one of the last days of summer — their chores left as half-completed messes in their tiny home, their purchased goods from the nearby acacia village still in their parchment wrappers — and the sun shines brighter than Dream imagines it ever has, but Sapnap’s smile shines brighter still.

The heat beats down on them as they stretch out their towels, flop down in a pile of sweaty limbs and laughter, and Dream’s fingers are itching. He flexes them, does it often now, as if he can scratch the sin out from under the surface, ease it out through his skin.

Bad and Ant have stripped off their shirts and trousers in record time, cajoling Dream and Sapnap to follow them as they race towards the coast line, George choosing to recline idly along his towel. Sapnap’s smile has gone slightly tense as his eyes travel the plains of their unmarred chests.

He doesn't have to say it aloud — Dream already knows.

So he makes sure he's in his line of sight when he takes his shirt off — the thin lines of ink on his chest have healed well, the skin no longer tender — showing off his new tattoo for the very first time.

Sapnap stares. Reaches out his fingers, brings the soft pads of them down over the ink. They feel at home under his boyfriend’s fingers, and he watches as Sapnap bunches up his own t-shirt in awe.

He touches the scars on his chest as he touches the twin marks on Dream’s — black ink dotted in perfectly to replicate the scars Sapnap’s fall has left behind, a reminder of what had happened, _forever_. 

For Dream it had been meant as a reminder of his own failures — _always strive to be better, because now is not good enough_. He can tell, by the fire that lights up his boyfriend’s eyes as his fingers trace the similar patterns on his own chest, however, that this is something else entirely.

And as he watches Sapnap take off his shirt, all signs of tension and discomfort gone, he thinks that that's okay, too.

He lets his boyfriend cuddle into his side as they wade into the water, allows him to hug into him later, while they lay sunning on the sand. Sapnap takes his hands, the comfort of their skin meeting drawing a sigh from his lips, and every ounce of him screams gratitude.

The sun is high in the sky, but nothing is brighter than Sapnap’s smile.

___________________

Some moments he gets overwhelmed and withdraws into the safety of his own mind and when he hugs Sapnap he still remembers the wet blood and fleeted breath. But he starts to think less of his own fingers stained with blood and more of his fingers interlocked with Sapnap’s. Sapnap smiles, all the time.

They meet Tubbo and Tommy, Wilbur, Techno, and Philza. They see Bad fall in love, and begin to love himself. George laughs more freely, loves more openly, hugs more often. 

Over the winter he and Sapnap travel to a tundra village so that they can browse for materials to build their own little home. Sapnap reads the map and holds it the wrong way, and they’re pretty crap at talking to the clerics — but they figure it out, and end up building a cottage right near all their friends. 

The cottage is by no means big, but it has a spacious bedroom, and a spare room too that's more often than not filled with too many people — Tommy and Tubbo, surprisingly, the most frequent culprits alongside George. And the bottom floor's one shared space with enough room for a small kitchen, a comfortable couch, and a work table. There’s big windows and the whole place floods in light, so Dream gets to listen to his boyfriend rave about the endless possibilities; growing nightshade on the balcony, hanging moon lilies by the door frame, how they can transform the corner into a comfortable nook with their books for George when he stays over, and how they can get themselves an indoor bee-keeper for the middle of the room so Tubbo can tend to them even in winter. 

Sapnap falls in love with the place, and Dream so does love an in-love Sapnap. Sapnap sees none of the imperfections, only sees the possibilities, and they are _endless_. And Dream? Dream falls and falls and _falls_ for his boyfriend.

He hugs into his side, puts his head on his shoulder and lets out a deep sigh. They stand together in front of the big window and Dream studies their reflection. Sapnap makes this cottage into a home, and he would have it no other way.

The first night, they fuck on the kitchen counter and fall asleep in their shared space with a heap of blankets right on the living room floor. The next day they find lilacs and harvest the seeds to start a little garden.

Sapnap enlists Tubbo to help him plant a plethora of different herbs and ingredients on the small balcony, and he persuades Tommy to help Dream paint the bathroom a pretty light blue that George picked out.

By the time Christmas rolls in the cottage is as cozy as it gets, with lots of plants and soft seats and the Christmas lights illuminating in the windows. They have all of their friends over and spend the afternoon trying to prepare a feast until Niki thankfully comes to their aid with her special roast wrapped in tin foil to be reheated and her recipe for baked sweet potatoes.

Tubbo, Tommy, Wilbur, Technoblade, and Philza bring a chocolate cake that looks like it's been through hell and back, and Bad, Skeppy, and Ant come laden with gifts. Tubbo tugs along a tall boy named Ranboo, proclaiming him as his “husband” and alternating between poking fun at him and singing his praises. Karl and Quackity and George arrive last, smiles bright and cheeks flushed. They all huddle by the fire, pressed tightly together as they sing songs and drink whiskey that burns on the way down. Sapnap drinks from the wine Ranboo brought, and when the drink stains down his shirt it doesn’t send Dream into a self-loathing spiral — he jokes and gets his boyfriend to the bathroom and helps him clean up, tossing the reddened shirt into the hamper without a second thought.

His chest is bare, his scars are ragged and pale, but he is _safe_. Dream doesn’t want much more for him; at least he doesn’t think so, until later in the evening, after another drink, he notices the look Sapnap keeps throwing him and there’s a fondness that kind of creeps upon him. Maybe he does want more than just safety. Maybe he wants to marry him. He’s still not sure he, himself, deserves it, though. 

That night he takes Sapnap to bed with insistent hands against his back. Sapnap stifles a yawn in his fist but goes willingly, allowing Dream to undress him gently and then kissing his mouth tenderly. They’re too sleepy for anything more, but Sapnap is warm pressed all along his back, and then in the morning he gets awakened in much the same way, his boyfriend heavy against his body and his lips pressing lingering kisses against the side of his neck, tonguing into his collarbone.

They make love with the blinds thrown open, early winter sun setting the room alight.

Afterwards, he lets Sapnap bathe him in sweet adoring touches, as he so often is too impatient to allow. He watches Sapnap’s tan digits draw patterns over his inked chest, following the tattooed scars with a curious index finger. He watches, demure, as Sapnap presses gentle kisses to the bite marks he’s left all over his neck and thighs, and then, almost dazed, as he hides his naked flesh under one of Dream’s hoodies to go make him coffee.

He comes back to bed with a steaming cup of too-sweet coffee and more soft kisses. He murmurs kind adorations, tells Dream how good he did, how proud he is of him. Dream feels his cheeks blush pink but for once, he is content not saying a thing. He allows himself to bask in the moment, of warm caffeine down his throat and Sapnap’s warm hands against his hips.

Dream feels safe, and secure, and sure that Sapnap will not let him let go. He thinks, maybe he wants more for himself than just safety, too.

_____________________

Months blur together. He watches Tubbo change his hairstyle half a dozen times, watches the progression of Ranboo’s healing ( _from what, Dream can only guess_ ) as he, Tommy, and Tubbo wreak havoc and Philza all but adopts him, watches his confidence grow with every day.

He starts wearing Sapnap’s clothing, boldly holds his hand on their many village trips, kisses his lips in front of their friends. George makes Sapnap an ointment with willow essence and a handful of other ingredients and he asks Dream to massage it into his scars diligently every day. The marks grow less angry, flatten out with the rest of the skin, and then less pink. They still stand out, but they look less of a mess, less like they belong to the unhappy, undulating, frantic boy and more like the happy and confident young men that Sapnap and Dream are both growing into.

Often, he lets his hands linger when he’s rubbing in the salve. He finds his trembling hands, itchy and uncomfortable, more settled every time — it’s still there, the sin teetering and stuck just below his skin, but it is no longer restless, no longer upset. His boyfriend's eyes pool shiny ink, content with the touch. They don’t say anything, they just smile.

It gets better.

He goes from restless sleep and restless thoughts to settled nights and settled thoughts. Sometimes he still thinks of how his boyfriend had felt, slipping away beneath his fingers. But he can feel Sapnap, vibrant and alive, underneath his digits daily. " _I’m still here_ ," Sapnap tells him sternly, and then Dream starts telling himself that too.

His mind wanders and he says, “you still have him,” and when he washes his hands for a minute everything is red stone and he goes, “he is still here,” and on the odd occasion that he does scare awake at night, he has Sapnap’s warm body resting besides him, dark lashes fluttering as he opens his eyes sleepily, and before his boyfriend can speak, Dream tells himself seriously, “Sapnap is _happy_ ,” and flops back down on the bed.

He doesn’t see Sapnap’s smile — he doesn’t have to, feels it pressed into his cheek instead.

It takes hard work, and it’s exhausting, but he doesn’t let up. Sometimes he’s too tired to convince his mind otherwise, but that’s okay too. Some days he still fears the unspoken and he spends the day in bed, emotions dumbed down to just an inexplicit sadness, and he cries and nestles into their duvet.

And then it passes.

He gets a bunch more tattoos, too, a bee for Tubbo, a compass for Tommy, and he watches himself in the mirror. Maybe he does not necessarily grow, but he washes his face and resists the urge to scrub at his hands until they’re red. He looks himself in the eye, and he watches his skin return to a healthier color, the bags beneath his eyes slowly but surely disappearing.

It’s not scary anymore.

Because this is his rightful place: besides Sapnap, this boy who he owes his life to, who he owes his happiness to. And Dream thinks that it’s fitting, that it’s the boy who owns him, and that he owns nothing but the smile on his face and his fiance's pale gold ring on his finger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bro! you made it! thank you!! god, i really hope the smut was alright. twas my first time posting smut and all that. 
> 
> so... hello! u may call me vi if you'd like! this is my first post on this account so that's really cool ;) 
> 
> i went on a walk today as the sun set while listening to arctic monkeys and that shit made me feel like the main fucking character. like i literally came home and finished this because i was so happy. idk, i just highly recommend!!
> 
> flirt w me in the comments. literally kiss me right fucking now. mwah. love you. 
> 
> n e way, i haven't posted much on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/dnvide) or [tumblr](http://dnvide.tumblr.com/) but they're pretty new so i will gradually become more active as i grow comfortable with the accounts :))
> 
> please take care of yourself!! thank you so much for reading & comment if you'd like me to flirt gratuitously in the replies <3


	2. lilacs and acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i... i added another fucking chapter even though that _was not_ the original plan. holy fuck. 
> 
> the love i received on the first chapter was so insane that i just kinda wanted to post this as a little thank you. it's rather short - just a quick one shot that i had to get out of my brain - but super fucking soft. 
> 
> hope you enjoy!! <3

_An Epilogue of Sorts_

It’s a warm day in late April, and the whole cottage smells like lilacs and sweetness. Tubbo is on special leave from his apprenticeship with a nearby acacia village’s doctor for the occasion and comes to cuddle Dream from behind, the hour still early. Sapnap’s at Karl and Quackity’s place, and Dream silently laments the fact that he’s spent nearly _twenty-four_ _whole_ _hours_ away from his fiance. 

He and Tubbo make breakfast together, fried eggs and bacon strips and sugar-sweet coffee, and then eat seated next to each other on the sofa. At around eight Tubbo goes to get dressed, leaving Dream in his pajamas to stare out of the windows, the world awakening. 

Dream’s eyes trail after Tubbo as he hurries about the house, and he very nearly laughs at how at-ease Tubbo appears in his and Sapnap’s home, but he supposes the amount of time he’s spent here — with and without Tommy and Ranboo — accounts for that. 

“I have to go or I might be late,” Tubbo tuts in front of his and Sapnap’s mirror in their shared bathroom, beckoning Dream over to fix his tie.

He is wearing a traditional suit, one not unlike the ones Tommy, Ranboo, Techno, and Wilbur will be wearing, a darker grey color with silver trimming woven in the fabric. His undershirt is a lighter heather grey, with dark green linings. Dream can’t take his eyes off his friend, so deeply and unexpectedly important to him now, smiling at him in the mirror as he fixes his hair. He looks young and handsome and happy and Dream can’t resist the urge to ruffle his hair — much to Tubbo’s loud protests — and take him into a tight hug.

The younger man sticks out his tongue childishly at his friend before leaving, passing George on his way out of the cottage. The brunette laughs obnoxiously at the sight of Tubbo tossing Dream the finger and presses a quick fist bump into Tubbo’s outstretched hand before waving at Dream, proudly holding up the clothing bag he’s brought.

Dream jumps into the shower while George lays out everything they need on the bed and then barges in yelling about how Tubbo had made him promise he’d wash Dream’s hair for him so that the right amount of conditioner would be used.

It’s very much of a mess, with George accidentally spraying himself and Dream calling him a pervert more than once, but they get the deed done with so much giggling that their stomachs are hurting.

Getting dressed is a precious moment that he silently tucks away in the back of his mind for later — in all their years of friendship, tender moments are few and far between, despite their absolute devotion for one another — and he can see the seriousness set into his best friend’s brow. He cannot imagine how often Tubbo must have forced George to practice this routine.

As it is, George dresses him with diligent hands. The plain white underclothes go first, and then he very carefully unpacks the black suit with deep green embroidery _._ He lays out the clothing as not to wrinkle them, and helps his friend into the undershirt first. He folds the neckline as Tubbo had instructed — left over right with ribbons of the black ink on his pale chest peeking out — and tucks the fabric tightly before securing a sash to keep it all in place ( _and to make Dream happy_ ).

Then comes the overcoat, and George takes his time folding it firmly over the undershirt before starting to situate it all. He has to redo it once, as Tubbo had insisted that he would try and try again until he could fold the fabric perfectly to rest over Dream’s lithe figure — he almost pities his friend, but George is as stubborn as ever, working hard to create the perfect tie that would make their young friend proud.

Last, he fastens the golden decorative chains that Sapnap has bought especially for the occasion around the slim of his waist, before nervously giving his friend a little nod and taking him out into the shared space to look at his mirror image.

The moment stretches gently into the next as George helps him style his curls until they’re spilling artfully along his brow, and then they are grinning and George is joking how he looks good enough to eat and intimacy gives way to something more playful.

He admires himself in the mirror while his friend changes into his three-piece suit in the bedroom, scrutinizing George’s handiwork. His childhood is filled with fond memories of reckless adventures with George and Sapnap, disregarding silly rules and losing themselves in makeshift wonderlands of their own creation _,_ and it feels not unlike something of an honor that he has shared this moment with George now, too, someone who has been beside him for years, who has loved him at his lowest.

They walk along a concealed path together to the same hidden beach they’d both discovered oh so many years ago, a ways away from the bordering villages where they can party the night away and sleep underneath the stars with the scent of pines and flowers. He feels silly for feeling fluttery, but his hands are fumbling with the fabric of his suit and he cannot keep them still.

George grins at him. He repeats to himself, “ _he’s okay, he is safe, he is holding on_ ,” and by now it’s become a mantra without much meaning, something he says just to comfort himself. His fingers are not stained red, when he closes his eyes he sees his fiance’s smile at him in the mirror, eyes glancing over at Dream with pride and _love_.

The woods smell sweet today, clean and fresh. He can hear the people murmuring on the shore, and George disappears only momentarily to shout through the front door, “we’re here!” and then he’s back by his side.

He walks Dream out to the outstretch of sand by the side of the set up gazebo with his hands clasped tightly over his eyes — Tommy had been adamant that they must not see each other before the moment is right — and it’s a welcome distraction. His senses hone in on the scent of the flowers, but as George leads him on, he gets flooded with Applewood and something earthy and it’s so undeniably Sapnap that he thinks his heart might skip a beat.

The gentle murmur of the guests quiets down — after a couple of light _ooh_ ’s and _aah_ ’s — and Dream realizes they must be close now, because the scent is heady here, so much so he thinks he might drown in it and —

When George releases him his eyes fly open and immediately find the pools of golden-orange that are Sapnap’s. He is fully dressed in a dinner suit, a black double-breasted tailcoat with satin lapels, with a crimson dress shirt and bow tie. His waistcoat is crimson as well, and Tommy has hung golden chains there similar to the ones George has so diligently wrapped around Dream’s waist atop his suit.

His hair is every shade from deep black to soft chestnut and Dream kind of wants to cry a bit because he’s smiling, lips soft and stretched, and he’s pretty sure he’s never been happier than in this one desolate moment.

Besides him, Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo look infinitely proud and their cheeks are dimpled with the grins overtaking their faces. Bad and Ant appear close to tears, smiles impossibly soft and brimming with unadulterated love. The moment is picture perfect and Dream has to kind of just be there for a moment so that he can take it all in — Sapnap’s gentle eyes studying his own, how strong he looks in his suit, the scent of his fiance spiked with his excitement, and the happiness on his friend’s face and the warmth of his best friend besides him.

For a moment he thinks maybe he can’t breathe and it’s just a flash somewhere in the back of his mind — _pale face, dark stone, red fingers_ — and his chest kind of constricts with it too but then Sapnap is taking purposeful steps towards him and he imagines his chest breaks open and his heart flies free, out to meet the boy’s.

He has to force himself not to run to meet Sapnap halfway, but they do eventually meet, on the white carpet that has been laid out to lead them to the grand wedding arch decorated with lilacs and pink and white flowers.

Sapnap has his hair twisted in a complicated bun, lilacs dotted throughout the waves and strands spilling down to frame his cheekbones and tangle in his eyelashes. Dream thinks maybe he can’t breathe again but for a different reason entirely. 

Dream’s _happy_. He _deserves_ this. 

“This is it,” Dream murmurs. Sapnap’s eyes soften, and he leans forward, a quiet _yes_ leaving his mouth. 

Unable to stop himself then, he leans into the boy’s body and tips his head to meet his apricot lips for a kiss. It’s softer than how they normally kiss, slow and sweet glides of his lips that Sapnap very smoothly follows. He thinks people might be laughing — Tommy’s signature guffaw is _loud_ — but he doesn’t care, he lets himself drown into the embrace and lets Sapnap take his hands and knows he will never let go again.

Sapnap tilts his head as he leans back, just smiling. “So you _do_ have a crush on me,” he teases, and he watches Dream’s cheeks light up like fire. He looks away and Sapnap laughs, pulling Dream’s hand to his mouth and kissing his knuckles. 

“Pandas, we’re literally getting _married_ —” 

“You’re fucking _adorable,_ baby,” he muses, and Dream sighs, and he feels like this is everything it has always been, and yet something that has been gnawing just under the surface, for some time. 

And it’s a comfort because this is his rightful place: besides this man who he owes everything to, who now owns his heart so fully too. And Dream thinks that it’s fitting, that it’s the boy who owns him so wholly, and that he owns nothing but the tattoos on his chest and the boy’s heart in return.

_Fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and it's finally, _actually_ done!! thank you so fucking much for reading!!
> 
>  **so. fucking. soft.** amirite?
> 
> oh! i have mentioned lilacs in this story so many times, and for good reason. light purple lilacs ( _so lilac lilacs lmaoo_ ) symbolize a first love and are viewed as an indicator of fresh starts, of spring, and of renewal. this flower, i hope, depicts the dynamic i established at its very core. 
> 
> sapnap helps dream start anew, helps him grow and open to others and that's so fucking important for me to get across, so i hope i succeeded!! 
> 
> i'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/dnvide) and [tumblr](http://dnvide.tumblr.com/). i've already met some really fucking cool people so if you'd like to talk, i'm always down :D
> 
> take care of yourself!! please drink some water and eat some food if you can!! you're fucking awesome!! 
> 
> (i am shameless and will flirt with you in the comments btw)
> 
> love ya, _vi <3_


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